


Scream A Little Louder, Baby

by Rinzler



Category: DCU (Comics), The Flash (Comics), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, New 52
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 12:23:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7801744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinzler/pseuds/Rinzler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So filthy hell would probably kick me out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scream A Little Louder, Baby

“Fuck, Barry,” Len pants helplessly above him, voice thick with lust. His arms, braced on either side of Barry’s hips, tremble as Len drops his head forward and groans.

Barry shudders and bites his lip, dropping back onto the bed. Len is always a good fuck, not too sweet and not too rough, capable of forcing himself to be the kind of steady and slow that Barry needs. Fast as Barry might be, this is the one thing he doesn’t like to speed through.

The next thrust hits Barry’s prostate again and he moans, long and full, to show his appreciation. “Aaah, Len,” he gasps. “Oh god- just like that-”

Len grins, proud but shaky, and rocks his hips forward. Barry rolls back, bracing his weight onto his shoulder blades, and lifts his legs from where they were lying on the bed to hook them around Len’s waist. Len doesn’t notice, rocking back and panting. His hair is hopelessly messy, and Barry watches in fascination as a few beads of sweat trickle down from his hairline, sliding down the long arch of Len’s throat. Barry bites his lip.

He feels Len shift his weight, ready to move again. In the half-second before he does, Barry takes a deep breath and pulls as hard as he can, thigh muscles flexing.

The momentum of Len’s thrusting combined with Barry’s movement results in a slick sound of skin meeting skin as Len slams into Barry, hard enough to bruise. Barry gasps aloud, cock jerking at the way Len’s cock drags against his prostate. Len gasps with him, broken and wrecked.

“Fuck, Barry!” Len swears. “Goddamn, you-” he doesn’t finish the sentence, breaking off into a desperate groan when Barry twists his hips in a circle, grinding against Len. He drops his head back to the mattress and allows a small smile to wind its way across his face, tinged with pure bliss. His fingers twitch and curl, and he digs them into the tangle of sheets they’re lying on. The cotton sticks to his sweaty skin and Barry laughs breathlessly as Len rocks forward again.

“Yes! Len!” He cries out, and arches his back in order to grind his cock between their stomachs, seeking friction. Precum is already smeared across his lower stomach, dripping down the insides of his thighs and mixing with lube and sweat.

It’s been getting hotter in the room, almost gradually enough to escape notice, but not quite. Len flicks his hair out of his eyes and the strands straggle downwards once again, sticking to his forehead. Barry squirms at the sight- he’s always had a bit of a thing for Len’s hair- and moans. His legs are still hooked around Len’s waist, and everywhere they’re touching feels like it’s on fire, like they’re burning up.

“Barry-” Len gasps, “Not gonna last much- longer,” and thrusts forward. Barry relishes the sound of the sharp smack of his hips. “Touch yourself,” Len says, “come on-”

Barry bites his lip and untangles his left hand from the death grip he had on the sheets in order to slip it between their bodies. He trails his fingers down Len’s chest, raising goosebumps in his wake, before dragging his nails sharply across Len’s lower abdomen.

Len nearly collapses on top of him, letting out a soft whimper. His body trembles under Barry’s touch, worked up and oversensitized. Barry grins as he flicks his fingers away and down, then wraps his hand around his cock and starts to jerk himself off slowly. It’s cramped, their bodies pressed so close together, so every pull of his hand on his cock feathers lightly against Len’s skin, knuckles tracing soft patterns up and down, up and down. Len goes a little crazy at that, thrusting faster and faster, building up a chaotic rhythm.

“Fuck, Barry, fuck,” he pants. “Come on-”

Barry moans in response, arching his back and jerking himself faster. The friction of Len against him, of his hand on himself, is becoming near-painful. Sparks flare behind his eyelids whenever he blinks.

A sudden, especially deep thrust has him throwing his head back and screaming with pleasure. His hand vibrates against his cock and then he’s coming, jerking and writhing under Len, who keeps pounding relentlessly into him.

“Len,” he sobs. “Len, ah, oh god-” He drops his hands to the bed sheets below him and grips them tightly, screwing his eyes closed at the overwhelming rush. He feels so much right now, pain and pleasure combined, and he doesn’t have enough brainpower to process all of it. All he knows is that it’s lovely and wonderful, and his body hurts and aches and he’s crying out, loud and unrestrained.

Through the haze of lust freewheeling through his brain, he feels Len’s thrusts stutter to a stop before the other man is coming with a breathless gasp. Len is never half an unrestrained in bed- and while Barry had been offended by that at first, he’s come to accept it now. It’s actually more than a little hot that he can be the one to reduce Len to incoherent noises of want and need. Like now, where Len has dropped his forehead so it’s resting on Barry’s collarbone, mumbling indistinctly.

It takes a herculean amount of effort to raise a hand from the bed and card it gently through the strands of Len’s hair, half of it a sweaty mess, the other half glittering with ice crystals as Len’s body tries to regulate its needed core temperature of cold. Barry manages, and grins happily at the way it makes Len collapse all the more onto him, pressing his body into the bed.

“Hey baby,” he says, then laughs when Len huffs at the pet name, the cool breeze making his skin break out in goosebumps. “Len. Are you okay?”

“Stop talking and I will be,” Len grumbles. He sounds grumpy, but Barry knows he’s not. The post-coital high, the way that Len is winding his arms around Barry’s chest, the soft kiss he presses on Barry’s neck present overwhelming evidence to the contrary.

“We need to clean up,” Barry says. Len just waves a hand at him. Barry rolls his eyes, but a second later the room is spotless, their clothes are folded and neatly stacked on top of the washer, the condom has been disposed of and Barry’s wiped the both of them down with a damp towel.

He collapses back down on the bed next to Len, who makes a noise of contentment before wrapping Barry in his arms again and tugging him closer so he’s resting against Len’s chest. Captain Cold, serial snuggler. Who knew.

“Sleep?” Barry asks him softly. When Len nods, Barry stretches out a hand to flick off the light and tug the covers up over their naked bodies. “I have work in the morning, so I’ll probably be gone early.”

There’s no response. Len is already asleep.

Barry grins, bright and silent in the darkened room illuminated by the streetlights outside, and closes his eyes.


End file.
